


After the Fall: Asado

by rhys_withoutaspoon



Series: After the Fall [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Abigail Hobbs - mention, Abigail Hobbs Dies, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Confused Will, M/M, Not A Fix-It, Post-Canon, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, kind of subtext-y stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-09-21 13:17:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9550700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhys_withoutaspoon/pseuds/rhys_withoutaspoon
Summary: They had been wounded, and now they were healed. Almost. The wounds of betrayal left both Hannibal and Will gutted, but it is the forgiveness that has left them bleeding still. And after their physical wounds had scarred over, Hannibal had something to ask of Will.Or,“Why did you forgive me Will? All those years ago.”“You mean after Abigail?” The silence was the answer.





	

The night sky was vast as Will remembered it, but strangely wrong, like someone had used the wrong shade of blue and black onto the canvas of the sky above. It felt like the work of an amateur artist; without that precision he remembered. And how he remembered. He remembered his home in Wolf Trap, almost a thousand years away. He remembered his dogs, and how they bayed at the night sky. Sometimes, Will yearned to join them, but those beautiful solitary nights were soon tarnished. Tarnished by a stag with black feathers, with feathered hooves, it waited for him to join it outside and revel in the night like the beast it (he) was. That ravenstag had ruined his love for the abyss above. As had Hannibal.

But here he was, basking in the midnight glow, smiling. He felt calm and panicked all at once; and as he smiled he savoured the uncomfortable stretch of his cheek that reminded him it was all real. That it had all happened; because sometimes he forgot. Sometimes in the dead of night when sleep failed to claim him once more, he almost believed it hadn’t actually happened. That nothing was wrong, and nothing was okay. And sometimes, in the all too real hours of the early morning, all he could feel was the harsh salt wind against his scarring cheek, and everything came back far too quickly. But this was his life now, this stranger of a night sky, and his stranger of a face, and the stranger that called himself Hannibal. Yet, he smiled.

He almost forgot how to smile, in the weeks of pain and recovery. He almost forgot how to live. In the hazy memories of his state of in-and-out consciousness, he thought he saw Abigail standing over him, smiling gently. It broke his heart, but not as much as the realisation that he left her behind over three years ago, in that Church. She wouldn’t return; as he wouldn’t return to the life he willingly left. There was no place for either of them.

He spied another figure standing on the deck of the boat, his broad shoulders and tall silhouette swaying as the ship swayed. His smile vanished. He remembered that he did have a place now, and like everything else in his life, it hurt as much as it comforted.

“It is a beautiful and delightful sight to behold the body of the Moon.” Hannibal turned to him, face shadowed but evidently joyful. Will didn’t respond, his cheek aching with the sea-winds. Hannibal did not mind his lack of conversation. Or, he did not seem to mind. Will honestly didn’t care about the difference; knowing that Hannibal would always make it clear when something was wrong. Will could feel Hannibal approaching, feeling the familiar breath on the back of his neck. “Do you not think so?” Will responded with a noise, rather than with words. He felt it better described his state of being, this odd purgatory he inhabited.

Will traced his smile of a scar, finding comfort in the familiarity of the raised skin. Everything else was too strange, from this gentle stranger to the gentle seas. Hannibal noticed the motion, and although Will could not see him, he did not need to; he could feel the proud smile twisting upon Hannibal’s lips. He felt Hannibal’s hand wrap around underneath his shirt, laying a hand upon his joyous work.

“It seems you have many thoughts, dear Will. Care to share some?” Will scoffed, pulling the hand on his stomach away.

“We share a great many thoughts. I would like to keep some for my own.” He turned to face the man who ruined the night sky, his blackened skin and outstretching horns glinting in the moonlight. “And my thoughts are not as interesting as you probably believe.” Hannibal’s smile widened, showing sharpened teeth stained with viscera and blood. Will blinked, and the man before him was just a man once more.

“As you say, we share a great many thoughts. I know first-hand that your thoughts are more than interesting.” Hannibal stepped closer, and Will did not step away, instead putting his hand lightly on his shoulder where he knew a bullet-shaped scar lay.

“I hate it.” Will’s voice was dry, his words dusty in his throat. Hannibal looked at the hand on him, pressing it further into his skin with his own.

“What do you hate about it? That I have it? That you didn’t cause it?” Will laughed and slipped his hand out from under Hannibal’s. He traced the scar on his forehead. When he spoke, his voice was filled with tired mirth.

“I don’t believe I’m your patient anymore Dr. Lecter. So why the questions you know the answer to? Do you want to hear it out of my mouth? Because,” He stared at Hannibal, avoiding his eyes, “you’re going to be disappointed when I don’t say it.” Hannibal smiled, and unlike Will’s, there was no fatigue in the lines that stretched across his face.

“I don’t need to hear you say it, Will. I was merely curious.”

“No, you were merely trying to manipulate me into an admission. I won’t deny it’s not familiar, but it’s also very tiring, and I’m done with being tired.” Will frowned, turning away from Hannibal.

“Why are you tired? Because I guarantee it’s not from my manipulations. It’s from your own truths.” Will sighed as Hannibal stood behind him, his gaze burning into his back. Will turned back to Hannibal.

“No. I’m not doing this. I’ve accepted who I am.” Hannibal’s stare was piercing, but Will was not one to yield.

“Have you?” Will barked out a shout of laughter that echoed across the rolling waves and through the quiet night air.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Hannibal paused, his face inscrutable, mouth drawn into a thin line.

“Yes, I’ve been wondering that myself. Why are you here, Will? It’s not because you have no other place to go, we both know that.” Will’s face broke from a bitter smile to a grimace, his eyes half-closing as they faced the ground. Hannibal kept his eyes on Will.

“Because I've never known myself as well as I know myself when I'm with you. That’s my truth. What’s yours?” Will looked up and matched Hannibal’s stare.

“You are my truth, Will Graham, as God is the truth to the simple fool, as beauty is the truth to the inspired artist.” Will’s lips twisted into something between a smile and a sneer. His tone was mocking as it was flattered.

“So grandiose, even when no one’s watching.” The smile grew on Will’s lips, expanding to an almost-grin.

“You are watching, and that is all that matters to me.” With this, Will erupted into laughter, shaking his head. He turned to go, and Hannibal’s smile fled.

“Could I ask of you one thing?” Will sighed.

“Why stop now? Know I have no obligation to answer.” Hannibal tilted his head in affirmation.

“Why did you forgive me Will? All those years ago.” Will frowned in response, before the question dawned on him.

“After Abigail, you mean?” Hannibal did not answer, but his silence was enough. Will smiled bitterly. “Because…she was better off dead.” Hannibal’s eyes widened slightly, not expecting that answer. Hannibal opened his mouth to speak, and Will shook his head. “I know. It sounds awful. It is awful. But…it’s the truth.” He stared into Hannibal’s eyes, his face hard. “It’ll always be the truth. And I’ll never forget her. And I’ll never forget what I did. But…” He faltered. “She was dead the moment you took her.” Hannibal opened his mouth to speak again, but Will continued on, his eyes never leaving Hannibal’s. “When I saw her again, after all that time…you had already threaded your tendrils into her mind, carefully shaped her mind into a perfect little daughter for you.” He swallowed heavily. “For us.”

“So, I had corrupted her.” Will shook his head.

“No. You were just leading her down the same path her father left for her. Despite what I’d like to think, she was never a victim. Not really. But you had baptised her in blood and the moment she disappeared her rebirth was complete.” Will glanced at Hannibal, whose face was stony.

“So, by your logic, she would’ve ended up down that path anyway. So why did you forgive me?”

“No. Perhaps, she didn’t have to go down that path. In another world, she was safe from you. From us.” Hannibal tutted as Will stared at him with self-loathing encompassing his eyes.

“You vicious boy. You would rather her dead than with us?” His tone was light and complimentary.

“Did you take her hunting?” Before Hannibal could answer, he shook his head, more to himself than to Hannibal. “Doesn’t matter. You would’ve done, eventually.” Hannibal smiled.

“She was a natural.” Will snarled at this.

“No she wasn’t!” He paced the deck, glaring at Hannibal. “In the end, I would prefer she didn’t have a place in your world.” Hannibal’s lips twitched into a simple smile.

“That is very selfish of you, Will.” Will stopped pacing, face rigid and smooth. “That is fine, my dear boy. I would have killed her sooner if I had known.” Will’s jaw clenched. “But, I did appreciate the company when you were in the hospital.”

“You used her.” It wasn’t a question. It was never a question.

“Yes.”

“As you used me.”

“Never.” Will rolled his eyes. “No, Will. I did not ever use you. I admit, I attempted to shape you, to change you. But you were always the end. Never the means.” Hannibal rested his hand against Will’s scarred cheek. “And look how beautiful you are now. I never did this, Will.” Will did not attempt to step out of Hannibal’s reach. He simply stood there, eyes empty. “I am glad I could not change you, as I am glad I could not break you. This,” he gestured to the sky, to Will, to the life they had, “I could never predict. This is your design.” Will finally turned his head away.

Hannibal frowned.

But the frown vanished as Will slowly curled his hand around his neck, blocking his airway with an odd expression; somewhere between bitterness and contentedness. It occurred to Will that Hannibal could have stopped him anytime, as his movements were less than subtle. Hannibal continued, seemingly unobstructed, but for the new harshness in his voice. “Are you going to kill me? As you failed to kill me that night?” Will smiled, tears in his eyes, and Hannibal smiled back.

“This is my design, Hannibal.” He then dug in the jagged fingernails of his hand, Hannibal hissing at the pressure. “But this,” He released his hand and gestured, a perfect copy of Hannibal’s from moments before. “This is our design.” He looked away from Hannibal. “I said my truth. I meant it. And I think I’ll never hate you more than for forgiving me.” Hannibal nodded simply. Will continued. “You once compared me to God. God does not forgive.”

Hannibal’s eyes glinted.

“No, he does not. Forgiveness is an admission, but it is also a promise.” Will's gut raged at Hannibal's casual air, and leant in, breath heavy in his ear. He was almost hissing, something between a whisper and a snarl.

“You know that ache as I do. The ache of betrayal, the ache of need. Knowing you forgave me is a greater burden; you will share that burden with me, as I forgive you in return.” Hannibal smiled in response.

“Of all the pain in the world, the greatest pain is knowing I cannot live without you. It is a shameful pain, a pain of the soul.” Hannibal was still smiling, and in response Will grabbed Hannibal, digging his fingers into the shoulder wound. Hannibal didn’t even blink. “We wear our scars as trophies, proof we survived each other.” Hannibal lent in return, digging his hand into Will’s bullet wound. They stood there, antlers interlocked, teeth bared and breathing shallow. Will wanted to shout with rage, but there was no voice inside except for a raspy whisper.

“I didn’t survive you. Not really.” And as one, they let go of each other. He leant against the rail, staring into the night sky. “Perhaps we never survived each other.” He surprised himself with a soft smile as he counted the stars, hate burning and freezing inside him, lapping at his heart like waves breaking shore. It was as comfortingly familiar as it was nauseatingly haunting. He felt his skin stretch in an almost-familiar fashion. “To answer your original question, yes. The moon is beautiful.”

“I once said ‘If I saw you every day, forever, Will, I would remember this time.’ I have changed my mind. This is the time I will remember.” Will didn’t look down; face still uncomfortably stretched into a smile.

“Well I was going to kill you. Perhaps better to remember this moment instead.”

“Does that imply you’re not planning on killing me? How surprising” Will softly chuckled.

“For now.” Hannibal raised his eyebrow. “Promises cannot last forever.” Will shook his head, turning to look at Hannibal. “Well, we’ll see. Maybe they can.”

Then they stood there, awash in their aching promises and hurtful words, gently smiling at the night sky. It was comforting, in its odd way.

“Maybe they can.” Hannibal echoed.

_Fin._

 

**Author's Note:**

> Another finished. Fuck I love writing Will and Hannibal; Will in particular. I really get to delve into pretension. It's wonderful. Anyway, thanks for reading! If you want to, you can leave a comment to give me some criticism? Not required, but certainly appreciated!


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